I curl up under the covers, deciding that this must be the most comfortable bed I've ever laid in. I rub my cheek against the pillow, realizing it's the softest pillow I've ever seen. I wrap the comforter tight around my shoulders, deducing that it's the warmest comforter I've ever- Yeah.
...
I spend a couple hours reflecting on how god damn nice this bed is, and then I crawl out of it and walk over to the window set on the far side of my room.
It isn't that I'm not tired. After five straight days of running at Gai's genin-approved pace, which had been even more hellish than usual this time around, I'm dead on my feet. Or as dead on my feet as I can get, anyway. I didn't get much sleep on our short breaks, either. Given all the rest I've been missing out on lately, I should have fallen asleep as soon as I touched that couch back in the living room. I'm beat.
The latch to the window clicks open, and it swings open on silent hinges. I climb through the windowsill and take a seat on the hotel's tiled roof, the chill of the stone shocking my bare feet and the light breeze raising goose bumps along my bare arms.
Good. The cold can clear my head. Maybe I'll get some actual thinking done tonight, instead of wallowing in self-pity.
I shove anything and everything related to Bijuu and seals out of my head to start, as that hasn't done me any good since I started thinking about it weeks ago. Maybe if I can find the old man before the tournament I'll talk to him about it, like I'd tried to weeks ago. He'd already left Konoha when I barged into the Hokage Tower that day, so I'd been left to my own thoughts. He has to be here now, though, right?
But until then I've gotta focus on my fight with Sasuke. I can worry about… that, later. Beat Sasuke and get my sword back from Samui. Those are my only concerns until I get a hold of the old man. Just leave it alone, Uzumaki.
Oh, my poor child.
"No, quit it," I growl, fisting my hands in my hair.
… Do I know you?
No, but I know of the poison in your soul.
That priest had obviously been talking about the memory of the Nibi that Sakura had sealed away, and my involvement in sealing it. He hadn't differentiated between my 'poison' and hers, after all. It wouldn't make sense for it to have been two different entities. And yet…
And yet the Kyuubi was known as a poison of sorts, too. Everywhere it went, civilizations died. Whether by its own wrath, or by the suffering that persisted in the aftermath, everything the Kyuubi no Kitsune touched died. It was the only Bijuu which could never be driven away, no matter what was thrown at it, could never be contained, no matter how its victims tried. It was the most powerful Bijuu in existence, and because of the mobility of its element it could appear anywhere, at anytime. It was the one Bijuu everyone feared.
Until the Yondaime killed it.
And that's the crux of this whole thing, the piece that doesn't fit. Everything else, my chakra, the seal, Hinata's meditation, and the crimson dreams, all makes a terrifying amount of sense when looked at from the angle of me-
But the Yondaime killed the Kyuubi twelve years ago. Everyone in the village knows that. There's a festival to celebrate it every year for six paths' sake. The old man himself told me the story of Namikaze Minato and his heroic victory over the monstrous nine-tailed fox every other week over lunch when I was little. Every single time it began with them alive, and it ended with them dead.
The old man wouldn't lie to me. Not about something so important. He might withhold information from me at times, but that's because he's the Hokage and I've only been a genin for a few months. He'd never outright lie to me. He's not that kind of person.
"God, enough already." I hunch over my curled up knees, clenching my eyes shut. I've already lost too much sleep to these doubts and fears. I can't lose my match against Sasuke to them, too. I need to focus on my fight. I need to-
"You seem conflicted," A voice observes. A very familiar voice.
I jerk my head up, eyes flying open, and find myself face to face with an orange, swirling mask. "Kazu?"
He raises a gloved hand from beneath his black cloak in greeting. "Good evening, Naruto," he says, a smile in his voice.
I'm not ashamed to admit that it takes me a long moment to process the image of my former kidnapper crouched in front of me inside one of the most powerful villages in the world, maybe twenty yards away from my elite jonin sensei, without a care in the world. When I do manage to snap out of my shock I lean forward and hiss at him.
"What the hell are you doing here!?"
"I wanted to see how you were doing," he says calmly. "And wish you good luck, of course. I hear you've been doing an incredible job in the Chunin Exams so far."
I furrow my brow. "I guess," I say slowly.
"I also hear you've been pitted against another Konoha shinobi for your first match in the final examination," he continues, a note of sympathy slipping past his featureless mask. "Is that what you were worrying over?"
"... Kind of."
Kazu settles back onto the heels of his feet, folding his arms across his knees. "Would you like to talk about it?" I glance back at the window to my room, considering the pros and cons of diving through it now before the masked shinobi has a chance to drag me through solid surfaces again. Though, if he had wanted to do that, he could have done it while I was absorbed by my own thoughts, right? And who says I'm even fast enough to get away before he paralyzes me again, or something?
"I don't think now's a good time," I finally say. "If my sensei catches you talking to me after what happened last time-"
"Don't worry about that," he cuts in, tapping a finger on the tiles beneath his sandal-clad feet. At once, the dim glow of live seals spread out from the tip of his finger and surround the both of us in a large circle. "He won't hear a thing."
"Was I really that out of it?" I ask in disbelief, twisting around to study the intricate ring of seals.
"I have something of an affinity for Fuinjutsu," Kazu replies, amused.
"No kidding," I mutter, tracing one of the symbols by my knee with the tip of my finger. A moment later they fade away back into obscurity, and I look up at Kazu's orange mask. His orange mask, and his fully matured Sharingan. "Uh, well. The guy I'm supposed to fight tomorrow is actually more than just a Konoha shinobi like me. We're on the same genin team together."
"Was it the boy who saw me take you?"
"... Yeah." He's treating that whole kidnapping thing pretty lightly, isn't he? "Anyway, I'm just worried about my fight with him. We've always been on pretty even footing in our spars, but he flat out told me that he doesn't think I can beat him in a real fight. He offered to hold back so that I'd have a chance." I scowl at the tiles beneath my feet, the memory of Sasuke's offer still as clear and infuriating in my head as it was five days ago. "I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be someone he pities."
"You want his respect," Kazu murmurs, an odd tone in his voice, and I nod. "Do you not think you can win?"
"I don't know. He's got a fire affinity and a Sharingan to counter just about everything I can do, and his super elite brother has been training him specifically to fight me for the last two weeks. All I've got is-" I sigh, my right hand finding its way to my stomach. "Wind."
A chuckle drifts past Kazu's mask. "That's all, hm?"
"Well, it's not like I can do much with it against my best friend!" I cry. "I don't want to kill him or ruin his career or anything, so my wind blades aren't gonna be much help, and my only other big attack would just throw him out of close quarters and give him time to hit me with a jutsu. I have to outmatch him and beat him down in Taijutsu before he can get his bearings or I'm screwed!"
"And you don't think you can do that, given his bloodline," Kazu says.
"Pretty much." I pause, considering my next words, and eventually decide to poke one of the elephants in the… rooftop. "You know how ridiculous the Uchiha are when they've got those eyes of theirs turned on." The masked shinobi blinks said crimson eye, reaching a hand up and brushing ridge of porcelain surrounding it.
"Ah, not quite," he says, letting his hand drop. "This was a gift from an acquaintance of mine, before he died."
"So you looted it." I deadpan.
"No, I swear," he insists. "He gave it to me of his own volition."
...
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